Cover Girl
by Nokito-chan
Summary: Freed often wondered if anyone ever really saw past the beauty and the legend of the demon. But he also couldn't help but wonder when, exactly, Mirajane had given up.
1. Part 1: At The Start

_**a/n: I couldn't resist … and there are no M-rated fics for FreMir … enough said xD What was supposed to be a oneshot spiraled way out of my control but Part 2 is pretty much done and should be up soon! I hope you like it, but constructive criticism is also welcome as long as you do it nicely ^^; That being said, please note that this takes place out of the canon timeline, so though past events are referenced it's not supposed to play out during any particular arc.**_

_**Warnings: Sexual situations, if you don't like, don't read!**_

_**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Also, I make no money off the writing of this piece of fanfiction.**_

* * *

_**Cover Girl**_

* * *

_**No one told me I was going to find you  
Unexpected what you did to my heart  
When I lost hope you were there to remind me  
This is the start**_

_**I'll be there when the world stops turning  
I'll be there when the storm is through  
In the end I wanna be standing at the beginning with you**_

_**-From Anastasia  
Performed by: Richard Marx and Donna Lewis**_

* * *

_**Part 1: At The Start**_

She always made him think of the stars; Mirajane with her sapphire eyes and hair like light. A distant, luminous beauty that shouldn't be touched by human hands. She was undeniably lovely – seemingly fragile and unthreatening; the perfect face for Fairy Tail, considering their reputation for wanton and random destruction. But, better than anyone, Freed knew the raw power and hidden strength that lay behind the exquisite features and delicate limbs. These days he couldn't look at her without seeing the demonic darkness overtaking the angelic smile; still unbelievably beautiful, even when tainted by the touch of the demon that lurked within.

Pure contradiction – that was all she was; the only reason why she fascinated him. Which was the real Mirajane? Though, he supposed, it hardly mattered; whichever form she took – angel or demon – she was more than capable of holding her many worshippers in spellbound awe. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench, willing his eyes away from her and trying his utmost to ignore the tingling at the base of his spine that was sending electrifying currents to all the wrong places in his body.

Freed liked order; he followed the rules. Especially his own; and his number one rule was to _not_ get distracted from his goals. If he was to follow in Laxus' footsteps there was no room for distraction, no time to worry about the enigma presented by one small female. He wasn't Macao or Wakaba – he refused to be ruled by his baser desires - and Mirajane decidedly deserved better than another stalker added to the ranks. Though, he firmly reminded himself, his interest was _not _carnal. Not in the least. Her kindness, her generosity of spirit, her devotion to her guild, her friends and her family, and how these traits reconciled with the incredible power she could wield … that was behind this incessant wondering. No more.

He understood, perhaps better than anyone else in Fairy Tail ever could, the lure of the demon. There was a reason he regarded the use of his own demon magic as the height of forbidden; to be used only in the direst of circumstances. It was too easy to give in, to let the swirling currents of dark power have supremacy. The magic was one thing, using it to aid the transformation, but controlling the beast it unleashed was where the true challenge lay and access to such power did not come without a price. There wasn't a wizard alive who wouldn't have their personality at least somewhat affected by the use of demon transformation magic. Except for Mirajane. Her normal demeanor was as different from the demon takeover as day was from night.

So he watched and he wondered; waiting for even the slightest sign that she too wasn't immune -that he wasn't even weaker than he'd thought he was in the aftermath of their battle. But all he saw was the lingering sadness – even after Lisanna's return - and the guilt that, for all her power, she hadn't been able to save her sister. Distantly, he sometimes wondered if his imagination wasn't running away with him. There was no real way to know what went on beneath the serene surface, after all, but some sixth sense, a gut feeling, told him that he wasn't wrong.

* * *

"Good night!"

With a happy smile, belying the dark circles of tiredness beneath her eyes, Mirajane waved goodbye to the last stragglers stumbling drunkenly out of the guild-hall and into the night. She laid the dish-cloth down onto the bar and reached for the keys beneath the counter. They clinked softly, confirming the tired sigh that fell from her lips. From his vantage point, hidden in a dark corner near the entrance, Freed watched quietly as she walked out from behind the bar, winding her way around the tables and benches, one hand gathering her long hair into a ponytail that she twisted into a knot at the base of her skull. Without the aid of pins or elastics, the lustrous length quickly succumbed to gravity; falling down her back in a shining waterfall once again.

She thought she was alone; that everyone had finished their last drinks – after she had cut them off – and gone home to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. He knew he should do something, say something, to announce his presence but he remained still and silent. Something outside his control was keeping him locked in place, watching her carefully as she moved around the large room, wiping at patches of spilled beer, packing away clean glasses, sweeping the floor.

It wasn't right.

Freed frowned. The number of S-class wizards was severely diminished and yet, here was one of their strongest cleaning up after a bunch of lazy drunks. She hummed while she worked; a sweet, soothing melody, almost as if she was aware of his presence and his thoughts and, in her own way, was trying to tell him that it was all right. But it wasn't – he couldn't wrap his mind around it, couldn't begin to understand what drove her. With such power she should be out in the world, taking on the jobs that no one but Gildarts attempted these days. She was smart, she was strong … logically, her ambitions should be far beyond keeping a bar clean and serving drinks to people who, though they loved her, was starting to regard her as a fixture of the guild-hall – another piece of furniture. Solidly, reliably, always there, but not someone to be paid attention to. A grim smile pulled at his lips, it was as if everyone had forgotten, including Mirajane herself.

The legend of the demon lived on but these days it seemed rooted more in fiction than in fact. Most of them had forgotten what she was capable of; so used to sweet, accommodating Mira-chan who was always ready to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, that it almost seemed laughable to think that she could, if driven to it, be almost as dangerous and frightening as Erza. The problem was, as far as Freed could ascertain, nothing short of the threat of death to those she loved could motivate her to utilize her power.

He shook his head, it baffled him. He couldn't understand her, no matter how he studied her, how he analyzed her, she remained a mystery. Instinctively he knew, there was more to her than this façade she presented – more than just the pretty cover girl who had no desires in life but to keep those around her happy. What did she want for herself? Wasn't there even a shred of feeling inside her that yearned for more? That wanted something for her own sake only; that would take something – anything – simply _because_ she wanted it?

The only conclusion he could draw was startling – frightening.

And he couldn't help but wonder how no one had ever noticed before; how somewhere along the line Mirajane had quietly given up.

Even more frightening – why did he care so much? Why was he driven to try and figure her out, why did it matter so much what choices she made? It was her life, and he had no right to pass judgment on any of her decisions, but, against his will, and without his permission, everything inside him rebelled against it. Screamed that she deserved more, _better_ - if only she would also realize that.

The door creaked open on hinges that badly needed some oil and Mira huffed impatiently but the soft noise yanked him from his dark thoughts. With vague panic he took stock of his surroundings; the lights were all switched off, save the one burning just outside the entrance; everything was clean and neatly stored in its place, ready for the morning. Mirajane herself had gathered her own things, a bag slung over her shoulder and a light sweater hanging over her arm, and she was in the process of locking him inside the guild building for the night. Frantically he wracked his brain for a way to suddenly step out of the shadows and announce his presence without seeming like a crazy person that had been sitting in the dark and staring at her for the last hour.

Time was running out, the door was open and the key placed into the lock from the outside. Mirajane had stepped over the threshold and her hand already rested on the handle to pull it closed after her.

"Mira-chan! Mira!"

Loud voices splintering through the night air made him jump and suddenly, to Freed's confusion, Mirajane was surrounded by five young men, their eyes shining with excitement and admiration. His hand was on his sword-hilt, a quarter of the blade drawn from the scabbard, before he realized that Mira was smiling and talking to her admirers as if she was used to this kind of scene.

"Mirajane, let me walk you home!"

"Mira-chan, how about dinner tomorrow night?"

Eyes narrowed and eyebrows drawn into an impressive scowl, Freed watched as Mirajane deftly extricated herself from grabbing hands wanting to assist and gently deflected all the offers being heaped on her. She reached for the key again and suddenly Freed was the only one who could see her expression – one she surely wouldn't have wanted him to see. Impatience was written all over her usual serenity, fatigue lined and darkened her eyes and a slight tremble to her full lower lip clearly indicated that the last thing she wanted was to deal with a bunch of hormonal fans.

He watched triumphantly, inordinately pleased that she didn't seem to be receptive to the attention, and that real emotions still lurked beneath the doll-like face. As quickly as the expression was born it faded into obscurity, but that split-second of unchecked emotion had been enough, and Freed finally understood what he wanted to do, what all the hours spent carefully watching, so on one noticed him watching, had been in aid of. Mirajane needed to be unlocked. She needed someone to lead her back into the world of the living; he had been the one to unleash Satan Soul so it was only right that he helped her to reopen the Pandora's Box their battle had brought into being.

Purpose gleamed in his eyes and he stepped forward - the only way out was to show himself after all - but as Freed opened his mouth the fifth member of the fan-club surrounding Mira, who was mostly hidden from his view by the angle of the door, reached out and wrapped an arm around Mirajane's shoulders. His fellows let out an almost collective sigh of envy for his daring, and the prize he'd won because of it, but Mirajane bit her lip, sudden tears springing to her eyes. The moisture shone silver in the moonlight and just for a moment Freed was afraid that Mira had reached the end of her tether and there was nothing but bloodshed and heartache in store for the five unfortunate boys who had chosen the wrong day to play with her. As quickly as it had come it was gone and she gently ducked out from under the arm, peaceful smile back in place, but it was already too late for Freed.

He stared in surprise that the blade in his hand; the length of sharp steel glinting in the dim light that pooled around the group on the front steps of the Fairy Tail guild. The tip dug satisfyingly into the skin of the boy's neck, the terror in his eyes shooting savage bolts of pleasure down Freed's spine. The others had already backed away, hands raised in surrender and voices clamoring to explain to the crazy guy with the sword that no one was doing anything wrong; that there was no need for violence.

"Freed."

The surprise that had bloomed in Mirajane's expression was once again carefully under control; he could just see her face from the corner of his eye since he refused to remove his gaze from the still cowering boy in front of him. One slender, pale hand landed on his outstretched arm, just below his elbow; the touch soft and soothing as she pulled at the red fabric of his coat.

"Freed, put down the sword," Mirajane spoke firmly, though her words were soft, and the command in her tone was unmistakable. Slowly the blade lowered and the boy gulped in relief, one hand rising to catch the small bead of blood from the puncture wound on his neck.

"Are you crazy?"

With the removal of the blade the boy seemed to have regained his courage and Freed took a step forward to meet the suddenly angry young man, only to find his way impeded by something soft and warm. In surprise, he glanced down, eyes locking onto Mirajane's warning gaze. Shock held him immobile as he stared uncertainly at her hands resting firmly on his chest. But the light shining from above them cast half her face into shadow and the darkness hid her eyes, and for the umpteenth time he found himself almost helplessly drawn into her gaze, wondering what secrets she hid behind sparkling eyes and careful composure. She was speaking – to her fan-club no doubt – because her lips were moving but she didn't seem to be expecting him to answer, so he simply stared; rooted to the spot. Unbidden and uncalled for a lascivious little voice popped into existence at the very back of his mind; wondering what her lips tasted like … would she be as sweet as she seemed or would that underlying layer he was only just beginning to see provide a hint of tartness to her kiss?

The blush was instantaneous, and nearly incapacitating, as Freed reacted to the thought: he jumped back, nearly pressed against the wall, nothing as important as putting some distance between them. The hilt of his sword slipped through suddenly nerveless fingers and the clatter of steel against stone rang through the night air. Eyes wide with shock he stared in silent horror at the girl standing in front of him, a slight frown drawing her perfectly arched brows together.

"Are you alright?" she asked, reaching a hesitant hand out to him only to withdraw it halfway as if she'd thought better of the action.

Her words crashed through the image of her, shimmering lips and shining hair, a touch of normality that he badly needed to regain even a shred of his usual composure. He quickly bent to pick up the fallen sword and sheathed it, ridiculously relieved that his long hair fell forward to cover his expression.

Freed cleared his throat. "Yes," his voice sounded slightly hoarse, maybe a little winded, and he silently cursed his traitorous body.

Her hands rose to her hips as she regarded him skeptically before a slight sigh puffed into the air between them.

"Okay. What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had gone home."

What had been the cover story he'd come up with a few minutes ago?

"I fell asleep in the corner and woke when you switched the lights off. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I think you scared them more than me," she laughed lightly, indicating with a slight toss of her head the direction her fan-club had gone in a few moments ago.

Mortification rose within him, acidic and corrosive, as blood heated his face; he couldn't look Mirajane in the eye. What must she be thinking of him now? Skulking in the dark – he hadn't missed the slight twist of her lips in amusement at his lie – only to jump out and attack random people …

"Walk with me?"

Soft, dulcet tones broke through the increasingly desperate thoughts and Freed nearly choked, but managed to save himself from total disgrace at the last moment, "Of course, Mirajane."

Thankfully the words came out smoothly, without interruption, and he turned slightly, one hand indicating Mirajane to precede him down the steps and into the courtyard. The tables and chairs were nothing more than hulking blocks of shadow, the umbrellas rearing above them in menacing darkness, but she almost seemed to light the path with the moonlight reflecting silver off her hair. They reached the main gates without further conversation and Freed hurriedly lengthened his stride so he reached the wrought iron doors a step ahead of Mirajane. Inborn politeness had him opening the gate for her, only a slight space, but enough for her to walk through with ease, so the creaking of the heavy metal swinging on its hinges wouldn't disturb the peace of the night. She smiled her thanks, walking past him and under his arm with only a slight duck of her head, and suddenly he couldn't help but marvel at how such a small frame could contain such immense power. Shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts for which there was no space or time, Freed quickly ducked through the gap himself, pulling the gate shut behind him.

They followed the sidewalk down the broad avenue; each lost in their own thoughts, and only once they rounded the corner and the guild building was totally out of sight did he open his mouth to speak again. He had no right to ask, it wasn't his place, but he couldn't help but wonder; had to try and solve at least one piece of the puzzle she presented.

"Does that happen often? Admirers waiting for you to lock up?" The words were more abrupt than he'd wished to sound; he'd meant to sound only casually enquiring, but they were out and there was no recalling them.

She glanced up at him in surprise that quickly turned into a smile, "Almost every night. Usually, Elfman stays with me until I lock up and we go home together but he's on a job at the moment." A slight frown marred her brow, "He's a bit late actually … he left about three days ago for a job that shouldn't have taken more than two, taking travelling into account."

Long hair flew out in an arc, almost glowing in the night, before the strands settled around her shoulders as she shook her head and smiled again, "Thank you for intervening tonight, Freed. I have to admit, I've gotten a bit rusty at dealing with fans face-to-face …" The words trailed away as she tilted her head back to glance up at a darkened building. "And here we are."

Turning to face him fully, she smiled brightly, hands interlaced modestly in front of her, "I hope you'll be satisfied now you've made sure I reached home safely." She watched him carefully from beneath lowered lashes, mischievous amusement sparkling clearly in her gaze and her voice, and he could only hope that the angle of the overhead streetlights hid his blush and sudden tension from view.

"I-I…"

The faint amusement turned into a full-out laugh, "That's all right. I appreciate the sentiment." She turned to go inside, and Freed stood frozen in embarrassment, until she reached the front door. Hand on the knob, she turned back and said over her shoulder, "But, Freed, even without my brother around to be overprotective, I don't need to be looked after."

Magical power gathered, not as much as the day they'd faced each other on the bridge, not an outpouring of pure emotion and rage, but enough to cause his eyes to widen. Freed blinked, and in that second she disappeared into the darkness of the foyer.

His last sight of her was the tip of a tail swishing out of view before the door shut scant inches behind it, chased by the tinkling sound of her laughter.

* * *

It was already dark by the time Freed made it to the guild-house the next day. All day had been spent in finishing small jobs within Magnolia; more tagging along behind Evergreen and Bixlow as they worked than working himself. Of course, he could have gone to claim a job of his own, thereby tripling the productiveness and income of the Raijinshuu, but that meant facing Mirajane and he wasn't entirely sure he was quite ready to do that. But, at last, the sun had set in molten rays of red and gold, washing the streets in a gilded-rose glow and he'd had no choice but to face her again. It made no sense to eat at a restaurant, alone, when a hot meal was to be had at the guild with his friends.

"Master, please! I cannot sit around here waiting. It's Elfman!"

His gaze had been firmly fixed to the floor, half-baked plans about taking a seat the furthest away from the bar and relying on his companions to shield him from view flying through his mind, when the sound of the usually soft voice raised in fear and anger made him look up almost involuntarily. Mirajane stood in front of Master Makarov, seated, as usual, in a cross-legged position on top of the bar, her feet planted wide and a look of determination firming her jaw.

"And I said no, Mirajane! Elfman is a grown man and a capable wizard and his welfare is his own responsibility. I will not allow you to chase after him when he's probably already on his way back."

"He's two days late, Master! He's _never _late. Something's happened to him, I'm sure of it!"

"Even if that is so, I cannot in good conscience send you after him! You haven't been on a job in years, Mira-chan," the voice cracked with age softened slightly as he turned a fond eye on the trembling girl standing her ground in front of him, "if something had happened to him I would be sending you into a dangerous situation, S-class wizard or not."

Narrow shoulders slumped and Freed could clearly hear the tears clogging her voice as she bowed her head in defeat.

"But we should do something. Please, Master."

It wasn't his place. It was against the rules; it wasn't part of his plans but nonetheless Freed found his feet moving forward through no conscious command from his brain. He reached the silently crying Mirajane still frozen in front of a troubled Makarov, and spoke quietly.

"If it would ease your mind, Master, I would be happy to accompany Mirajane as she attempts to locate Elfman."

White eyebrows rose in surprise and Freed firmly fixed his eyes on the master's nose so as to avoid the old man's speculative gaze, and willed the self-conscious blush to recede. Mirajane moved almost convulsively and tear-filled blue eyes searched his face in surprise but he firmly stared straight ahead, awaiting Makarov's decision.

"Hmmm," the old man huffed, pulling at his moustache, "that would be preferable, of course. If I cannot dissuade you from this foolish course of action, Mirajane, then I must insist that you take someone with you. Freed has generously volunteered so you may leave your duties for the time being."

A grateful gasp was the only response he got before Mirajane threw her arms around both Makarov and Freed in turn. Without a word, wiping at the silvery tear tracks on her cheeks, she whirled around and ran round the bar and through the staff doors behind it.

Makarov raised his tankard to his lips and muttered into his drink, "If I were you I would see about getting dinner as quickly as possible, my boy, because she's not going to let you linger until tomorrow which would, of course, be the sensible course of action."

"It is as you say, Master," Freed returned, quickly turning on his heel and striding towards the table Evergreen had claimed as her own, before Makarov could get another word in; he had no desire to hear the master's thoughts on his offer, not when he could feel the speculative gaze burning into his back.

His companions had already picked up plates of food and Freed was grateful when Bixlow jerked his head towards the full plate placed in front of an empty seat, indicating that it was for him. Before Evergreen could start asking questions – he could see the curiosity gleaming in her eyes – he slid into the seat and picked up a fork. She couldn't pester him while his mouth was full and hopefully by the time he was done eating Mirajane would have gathered whatever she might need and they could be on their way. In a couple of days, when they returned, the whole thing would be old news and no one would bother to ask him questions he didn't want to – couldn't – answer.

* * *

She moved surprisingly quickly through the darkness; a paler shadow announced only by the glow of her hair and the sound of her heels on the cobblestones of the streets. Freed followed silently in Mirajane's wake, debating if he should point out that she would fall if she wasn't careful, but deciding to stay silent when he caught sight of the determination shining from her features, as she looked down a side-street they passed.

"Please hurry," she called over her shoulder as she lengthened her stride to nearly a run.

Silently he complied, speeding up until they were nearly jogging through the quiet streets. People had already retreated into their homes for the night; dinner long over, as they settled to pre-bedtime activities, and they met no one in their rush to the outskirts of the town. Suddenly the road ahead stretched into the dark trees, only a few meters of it visible in the night, trees lining it in clumps of darker shadow. Mirajane stopped, gasped a few quick breaths, and once her breathing slowed down, she pointed into the trees.

"If we follow along this road we should be able to see signs of Elfman if he passed this way," she gulped, "he likes to cut through the trees whenever he leaves Magnolia, though he's usually careful to not venture too deeply into the forest."

"Mirajane," how he hated the hesitance in his voice, "what makes you think that Elfman wasn't just caught up in a job that took a bit longer than anyone projected?"

She whirled around, quickly suppressed fire blazing from her eyes, "I – I don't know. I can't explain it. I just have a really bad feeling about this. Please, you have to believe me, but even if you won't I'm going on ahead and you can't stop me." Defiantly she raised her chin, challenging gaze meeting his own firmly.

Freed shook his head slowly, "I believe you. I promised to help you search for your brother and I will not go back on my word. Only, it might be easier in daylight. We could fly low over the trees and see if there's any sign of a disturbance."

"I can't wait until then, Freed! I'll go mad if I have to wait another second!" she started off down the dark road, without waiting for either a reply or for him to follow and, with no other choice left, Freed sighed as he cautiously began to make his way through the darkness.

It was a long night. Cold and stiffness set in, and Freed could clearly see the way fatigue was beginning to slow Mirajane's steps, as they carefully picked their way through the trees. First one side of the dirt road then the other, always careful to never let their only link to civilization out of their sight; theirs would be a useless rescue endeavor if they only managed to get themselves lost too. The first pale fingers of dawn spread across the sky before she would concede to a small break, and they drank some water as they rested underneath a big, gnarled, old tree, both too tired to be hungry.

She sat next to him, legs carefully crossed in that curious double-jointed way of women that he'd never quite managed to master, leaning her head back against the tree.

"Maybe I'm being silly," doubt crept into her tired voice and a long sigh puffed past her lips, "we've searched all night without any sign of anything being amiss." Slender fingers threaded absentmindedly through the dewy grass beneath them and before he could properly analyze the action Freed reached out and captured her hand, stilling her cold fingers by wrapping his own around them.

"Even if nothing has happened to Elfman, no one can blame you for caring enough to worry," he stated softly, "we'll rest a short while and then continue the search until you are satisfied."

With a quiet huff of assent Mirajane pulled her hand out from beneath his and turned slightly. Tension ran rampant through his body as she, quite naturally, as if she did this all the time, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Maybe just a quick rest," she murmured tiredly, her breath brushing softly against the skin of his neck.

Mirajane had already fallen asleep; the soft sound of her breathing the only noise in their silent clearing, before Freed relaxed enough to carefully lean back against the tree so she could rest comfortably.

* * *

The sun had risen properly by the time Freed woke up again. His body felt stiff and sore from leaning motionlessly against a tree for so long but Mirajane looked comfortable enough, curled into his side as she slept on, peacefully unaware of her surroundings. A pang of emotion he couldn't identify ran through him as his eyes carefully perused her sleeping features. She looked so innocent and young in slumber, her lips slightly parted and a rosy flush to her cheeks.

_You are always ready to take care of everyone around you… but who takes care of you, Mirajane?_

He hated to wake her but they couldn't stay asleep in this sunlit spot forever and, his heart beating painfully fast at the thought, he reached a hesitant hand out to her. Her skin was softer than he ever could've imagined, the way pure silk must feel, as he ran he knuckles gently down her cheek. A slight frown puckered her brows together but she merely sighed and buried her face into his neck with another soft huff and he froze into place.

It was far too much and not nearly enough; her lips just brushing against his neck, her warmth pressed firmly into his side as she curled into herself, one knee coming to rest on his thigh and one hand burrowing into his hair as she wound an arm around his neck. His heart raced, blood rushing through his veins, and sudden heat glowed from his head to his toes; he could feel the blush turning even the tips of his ears bright red. Emotion swelled and crashed over him in wave after wave of confusion and for the first time he admitted to himself that maybe his reasons for helping her weren't entirely altruistic. He could deny the attraction he felt until he was blue in the face, but the fact remained, she'd lashed out at him in a fit of protective rage when he was inflicting pain on her brother so many months ago, and it had been as if he was seeing Mirajane for the first time. Suddenly he'd really _seen_ the beauty she was so famous for but more important than that, he couldn't forget how she'd reached out to him; with his world crashing down around his ears, and though she had every reason to hate him, she'd instead taken his hand and reminded him of why he'd always thought of Fairy Tail as his home. Instead of berating him or inflicting blame, as he'd wanted so badly for her to do, she'd shown him the way through the darkness and guided him back to himself. And, for the first time in many years, Freed had realized there was more to life than the insular existence of the Raijinshuu following along in every move Laxus made.

In the months since, as he'd compulsively denied the existence of every pang of attraction, every bated breath as she bent over the bar or reached up for a bottle, always smiling … he'd lost the battle and allowed her to creep under his skin. She was always in his head now, and he was so tired of ignoring it; of ignoring her and the way she made him feel. The way even her slightest smile made his stomach flip over and his blood race until he felt lightheaded….

He closed his eyes, firmly taking control of his suddenly wayward thoughts, fighting against the urge to take her into his arms and press his lips against hers until neither of them could breathe anything but the other, and took a deep, calming breath. It was never a good idea to lie to oneself, and with the admittance of his deepest secret came relief, but analyzing it would have to wait. For now, Mirajane would never forgive him if he didn't wake her soon and he would never forgive himself if he took advantage of her vulnerable position.

"Mirajane," he kept his tone low, hoping it would mask the longing he wasn't entirely able to repress, "Mirajane, wake up."

She stirred again, her head turning and her hand falling away from his nape, much to his relief, and she sleepily opened her eyes. Her smile, when freshly awakened, was even more angelic than usual and Freed swallowed convulsively as the urge to kiss her rose again – higher and stronger than before. Instead he carefully averted his gaze, but even as he moved so did she.

"We have to move!" she gasped, struggling with her skirts as she rose to her feet, "we've already wasted so much time." Mirajane yanked fretful fingers through her sleep-tangled hair as she glanced around the clearing to gain her bearings.

Slowly, biting down on the groan as his limbs protested against the movement, Freed rose to his feet.

"We only slept a couple of hours," he said soothingly, but she'd already started towards the dirt road and, with a sigh, he carefully followed after her. She made too much noise as she stumbled through the undergrowth and he glanced around, trying to gauge if there was any danger – anyone who could've heard her - but the world was still and silent; the peace of a new day, just barely begun, still hanging in the air.

"Freed!"

She was already in the middle of the road, glancing up and down as she decided where they would search next, but her voice carried clearly and Freed winced, giving up on the now pointless task of trying to pin-point any danger they might be in. They still didn't know what had happened to Elfman but if he had run into bandits or the like, and he hadn't been able to defend against them, they would surely already know their location from Mirajane's headlong rush through the trees. He moved quietly to her side, senses tuned for any sign of life, and waited for her to voice the decision she'd come to.

"This way," she concluded, leading him into a darker clump of trees, undergrowth heavily spread across the ground, snagging at her skirts and tearing at the soft skin but Mirajane paid it no mind as she walked deeper into the shadows.

"Mirajane! Wait, don't -″

His words were cut off by her ear-splitting shriek as the ground suddenly gave way beneath her, undergrowth changing into slippery rock. He rushed forward, hand outstretched but reached her just too late; windmilling arms failed to gain her balance as her feet lost their purchase on the mossy rocks and suddenly all he could see was her hair, streaming out in the air as she fell into the shadowed ravine.

"Mirajane! Mirajane! Answer me!"

His sword was out, slashing frantically through the air, the runes formed and applied before her answering moan reached him. Wings shimmered into view and he carefully descended into the pit of gnarled tree roots and vegetation, eyes strained for even the slightest movement below him. A shaft of early morning sunlight pierced through the tangled branches and leaves overhead, the small ray of butter-yellow landing on her outstretched hand, and Freed quickly ducked lower.

Landing lightly next to her he bent over her inert form, trying to guess at what injuries she might have sustained though the dim light made it nearly impossible to identify them. Carefully, he felt his way down her arms and then her legs, but despite scratches and bruises, her limbs appeared unbroken. One hand dug into her hair as he cradled her head and slowly pulled her up so she rested in his lap instead of on the hard ground.

"…nee-chan! Mira-nee! Where are you?"

The gravelly voice rang through the hushed stillness, suppressed emotion evident in the slightly harsher than normal tone and Mirajane stirred, eyelids fluttering.

"Elfman….?"

Her whisper was low and strained and Freed frowned in the direction the voice had come from. Her brother's voice had the tinny sound of someone far away, the sound carried more by echoes than by the wind, and he couldn't waste any time waiting here, not with Mirajane injured.

"Elfman!" He drew a deep breath and shouted again, "Can you hear me?"

Silence answered his call but the swelling of magical power from the east could be clearly felt; Elfman couldn't be that far away. Freed sighed, opened his mouth but before he could shout again the rough voice of Mirajane's younger brother sounded.

"…Freed?"

Elfman sounded confused but there was no _time_…

"Yes! Are you all right?"

"Mirajane!" Was his only reply and Freed cursed under his breath as he turned his attention back to the barely conscious girl in his arms. She was smiling, valiantly trying to fight off the waves of pain, but when she moved forward, trying to sit up, she cried out and went limp.

The crashing of a large body through the undergrowth reached his ears and Freed glanced up just in time to see Elfman's silhouette appearing at the top of the ravine he crouched in.

"Freed!" it was a bellow of rage and pain, "what have you done to my sister?"

"Elfman!" Freed forced every ounce of authority he possessed into his voice, trying to quell the rush of emotion from the other man before it began, "Mirajane fell down the ravine and I don't know how badly she might be injured. Questions can wait. Are you able to make your own way back to Magnolia?"

"Ye-yes," fear flashed across Elfman's face as he caught sight of his sister's limp form for the first time, "but what happen-″

"There's no time! I'll fly her back to the guild and you can see her there."

Without waiting for a reply, Freed carefully sheathed his sword and slid his free hand under her knees; his fingers pushing the bunched fabric out of the way but there was no more time to worry about Mirajane's modesty than there was to worry about her brother's concern. As smoothly and slowly as possible, he rose to his feet, Mirajane held bridal style in his arms. Every ounce of magical power went into his wings – trying to ease the passage of their flight through the trees so she wasn't jostled unnecessarily.

The sunlight was warm on his face when they broke the cover of the branches; distantly he could hear Elfman crashing through the brush in his rush to reach the road. Just before they disappeared from sight the tall man reached the tree-line and Freed frowned when he noticed the cast around Elfman's leg; that would explain his tardiness in returning from his job. Determination firmed his jaw and his wings beat ever faster as they flew through the air; if Mirajane died because of his inattentiveness … he didn't know how he could live with himself.

* * *

_**a/n: Review?**_


	2. Part 2: In The End

_**a/n: … This spiraled wildly out of control xD But I hope that you'll enjoy it even though I'm pretty sure there's lots of OOC-ness and other bad things; constructive criticism is appreciated but please don't be mean!**_

_**Warnings: If you've got a problem with sexual situations don't read this – you have been warned.**_

_**Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima**_

* * *

_**Part 2: In The End**_

Something soft was cushioning her, enveloping her; almost suffocating. Slowly, Mirajane moved her legs, then her arms, finally identifying the restrictions as soft sheets. The smell of fabric softener filled her nose, the comforting scent of clean linen, and she smiled slightly as she turned onto her side.

Or tried to, but, the moment her torso twisted in movement, white-hot pain seared through her. Every breath brought with it the flames of pain, all down her right side and she gasped for air, momentarily panicked at the thought that she wouldn't be able to breathe properly. Her eyes flew open even as her body stilled in the bed; trying to avoid any further pain by tensing into perfect stillness. Bright, white light burned her eyes and she snapped them closed again, while the moan she had been trying to repress escaped from her mouth despite her best efforts to contain it.

"Mira-nee!"

Two voices raised in joy rang through the peace and for the first time Mirajane realized that she had a pounding headache to add to her troubles. Carefully, she cracked open first one eyelid, and when the light didn't hurt as much this time, she opened the other.

Elfman and Lisanna leaned over her, on each side of the bed, beaming even as tears ran unchecked down their cheeks.

"Oh, Mira-nee, I'm so glad you're all right."

Lisanna grabbed one of her hands and held on so tightly Mirajane almost thought her fingers would be broken next, but the younger girl bent her bright head over her sister's hand and sobbed, and she didn't have the heart to tell her to let go. Slowly she turned her head to the other side, to see her brother, head tilted back as he bawled like a baby while trying to hide the fact. She raised her free hand in his direction and he grabbed onto it like a lifeline, his shoulders shaking with silent tears as he followed their youngest sister's example and bent over her hand.

It took a long time for them to calm down, but Mirajane was content to be with them and she waited patiently for the high-strung emotions to run their course. Finally, they both sat back, still holding onto her hands and gazing at her with alternate gazes of tearful joy and fearful question and she decided to brave the pain to ask the burning question.

Suppressing the small wince the deeper breath needed to speak drew, she asked quietly, "What happened?"

That was enough to start Elfman crying again and questioning blue eyes met their twins as Mirajane glanced at Lisanna while patting Elfman gently on the head; he buried his face further in his arms and shook with renewed tears.

Lisanna shook her head, "Apparently, Elfman was late from his job because he'd broken his ankle. He thought he'd still get back in time so he didn't send any messages. You and Freed eventually went looking for him."

Mirajane firmly suppressed the blush as her sister leveled her with a probing gaze but when she didn't respond Lisanna sighed and picked up the tale again.

"You slipped on some rocks in the woods and fell into a ravine. Cracked your head pretty hard not to mention a couple of ribs," the younger girl grinned sympathetically at her sister and squeezed her hand, "That's why it hurts to even breathe. Anyway, Elfman found you soon after, he wasn't too far away; he heard you scream and then someone calling your name. Freed flew you back to Magnolia while he followed behind. We got a doctor out and patched you up as best we could, but Wendy's out on a job so unfortunately you're going to have to do the bulk of the healing yourself."

Slowly Mirajane nodded, as her sister spoke flashes of memory confirmed the words, but brightest of all was the memory of waking in a sunlit clearing, Freed staring intently down at her… she quickly squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to examine those particular memories with her siblings present. They mistook the gesture for pain and, Mirajane resigned herself to lying back as both of them plied her with medicines and food, and water and anything else they could think of.

"I would like a change of clothes," she finally murmured and to her relief Lisanna jumped to her feet.

"I'll go pack you a bag right away, there was nothing in the guild's infirmary except those horrible hospital gowns, sorry, Mira-nee." Lisanna grimaced but waved a hand and ran out the door before Mirajane had a chance to assure her that it was quite all right.

Silence descended and when Mirajane turned to Elfman – it was unlike him to be so quiet – with a questioning glance, she was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears again but before she had a chance to reassure him, Elfman jumped to his feet and ran out the door, clearly overcome by emotion and, for the moment, Mirajane had no choice but to let him be. Cautiously she leaned her head back, wincing at the pull to her ribs and sighed, only to choke when the resulting deeper breath made the fire dance through her bones. Slowly she closed her eyes, wishing she was back in the clearing, curled into Freed's side, his body warm and firm and _safe_ against hers; wishing that she hadn't been so spooked by the unfamiliar feelings the intimate interlude had evoked that she hadn't rushed into the first, best direction only to get away. A wry smile pulled at her lips, no good ever came from running away, only injury as she could clearly attest.

"Ah, Mira-chan. I'm glad to see you finally awake. I was nearly about to go pull Poluschka out of her house to tend to you."

"Master," Mirajane slowly opened her eyes and smiled at Makarov who stood just inside the door, carefully watching her for any signs that she wasn't all right, after all.

"I'll be fine soon, I'm sure."

Makarov harrumphed, hiding the pleased smile behind a hand pulling at his moustache, but Mirajane could see the happy crinkle to his eyes and she swallowed the sudden bout of tears that threatened. So many people who cared, and she'd frightened them all for no good reason except that she'd been afraid of how one man made her feel.

The master cleared his throat and said, "Everyone was very worried, and they would all like to see you but not until you feel up to it, Mirajane. In the meantime though I thought you wouldn't mind seeing Freed for a few minutes. He's been driving me up the wall with his hovering and asking how you are."

She wasn't sure whether she should blush or whether all the blood wanted to drain from her face, and, at her inelegant choke, Makarov raised his eyebrows.

"Was I wrong in assuming so?"

"No, no, of course not!"

She tried to laugh through the embarrassment, tried to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach - feeling more like elephants - and waved a hand in Makarov's direction.

His tall figure filled the doorway before she had a chance to utter another word and her breath caught in her throat as his single visible eye locked onto hers, intensity shining from the blue depth along with a million other things she had no hope of identifying. Mirajane resisted the urge to comb her fingers through her hair; suddenly self-consciously aware that she must look terrible.

"Mirajane, I am relieved to see you better at last."

His tone was even, voice not betraying even one hint of emotion, and Mirajane swallowed the irrational disappointment. Freed was always so serious, so perfectly polite, and she couldn't help but wish that, just this once, he could've acted a little more like her brother and sister. The thought of Freed crying over her hand brought a smile to her lips and she quickly tried to cover her discomfort by trying to sit up a little straighter.

"I don't know if better is the word, but I understand I have you to thank for getting me back to Magnolia so quickly." If only the damned blush wouldn't keep rising; she couldn't spend half her energy on keeping it suppressed, and deal with Freed and the onslaught of feeling that he brought with him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Makarov sliding quietly out of the room but Freed cleared his throat and she forgot all about the master or her siblings or anything else. He shook his head, the long locks of hair shifting out of the way and, for a moment, she could clearly see the dark circles that ringed his eyes. Sleepless nights brought on by worry about her? The guilt stabbed again, short and sharp, and Mirajane fought against the grimace of pain her involuntary movement at the emotions had brought.

"Please, don't thank me, Mirajane. If I had done my job properly you wouldn't have been hurt in the first place," Freed spoke awkwardly, stiffly, hovering just inside the door as if he was afraid to be near her, afraid to look at her too closely.

"No, it was my own fault. Don't blame yourself."

Instinctively she wanted to give comfort; wanted to take away the sharp lines of guilt on his face and the shadows in his eyes, but he was too far away for her to reach him, though the mere thought of touching him suddenly made her feel as if she had run a mile and was gasping for air.

He inclined his head silently, and Mirajane sighed softly – mindful of her ribs – when she saw that her reassurance had no effect whatsoever; if Freed had his way he would go to his grave blaming himself for her accident.

"Freed, I'm serious, it wasn't your fault."

Why she was insisting, pushing, she couldn't have said. All she knew was the burning urge to break through his barriers; to crack the hard shell he placed around himself, allowing no one closer than he absolutely had to. She stared up at him, willing him to look her in the eye, wishing as she never had before that she could read minds – could see what lay behind his distant gaze.

"Master Makarov was right, Mirajane. You shouldn't have gone and I shouldn't have enabled you to go against the master's wisdom."

The demon was behind her; her rivalry with Erza and all the burning ambition were things Mirajane had been secretly glad to leave in the past. But the impetuous little girl still lurked somewhere deep below the surface; rising up in times of great need – her anger and her courage giving Mirajane the strength to fight when her inclination would have been to back down. Despite the pain, she struggled upright until she was sitting up more than lying down, biting her lip to keep from making any noise, and turned a cool gaze on the man who still towered above her.

"What are you implying, Freed? That I'm so inept I shouldn't be allowed out of the guild?"

He took a step back, shock evident in the widening of his eyes, "I – no, that-″

"That _was _what you were implying – don't lie to me. Do you think I'm stupid? That I haven't noticed you watching me; always watching so silently? I know what you were thinking – someone like you … of course you were wondering why I'd chosen to give it all up. Isn't that right, Freed?"

The bitterness was unmistakable, uncharacteristic, and because of that so much more terrifying. Instead of mumbling some excuse and running for the door as she'd expected him to do, he took a step forward, glaring down at her and his sudden anger shocked her so much that she completely forgot that she had been angry at _him _a moment before.

"Yes, Mira, I wondered. Who hasn't? You developed a block after Lisanna but you didn't have to give up. You didn't have to hide behind a bar and immerse yourself in servitude; you could've tried to overcome it the way Elfman continuously tried to overcome his! So, yes, I thought going out looking for him might be just what you needed, now you've got your magic back, but clearly I was wrong and therefore it _is _my fault that you're lying here today."

He took a deep breath but she got there first, speaking softly, slowly, all the while staring him straight in the eye so he could be under no illusion that she spoke anything but the truth.

"I was reckless and young and high on my own power. I wanted more of it, every day. It was never enough – I don't have to explain the demon to you, I'm sure. But I was arrogant and so sure of my own power that I let the important things slide. Lisanna got hurt and, for all my strength, there was nothing I could do to stop it or save her – my sister was dead and it was my fault because, if I'd been a little less self-involved, I would've been doing what I was supposed to do: taking care of my family."

She drew a deep breath between clenched teeth, barely even feeling the pain of her cracked ribs as the words poured from her; words she'd buried so deeply inside herself she'd never thought she would ever express them.

"I didn't give up the way you think, Freed. I gave up on the unimportant things – and when it was important, when I could use my power to save people I loved, I could access it again and that's when I realized the truth: Lisanna changed me and I could never go back to being demon Mira ever again. I didn't want to. After all, what is more important than being there to support the people you love?"

He wasn't looking directly at her anymore and she didn't know what that meant but she could guess. Mirajane couldn't fight the tears anymore, her entire body ached and the glow that had suffused her since waking in that sunlit clearing had been drained away with every word Freed said, until she could barely understand how it could hurt so much to have him think so little of her.

"I-If that's a disappointment to you then I'm sorry but I can't be anything other than what I am."

Valiantly, with all her strength, she tried to will the tears back but it was no use; every shuddering breath made her ribs ache and she pressed one hand against her side while the other covered her mouth as if she was trying to force the pain and the tears to remain locked inside her body. Her vision swam and she swallowed hard, wishing he would just leave, but a hand tangled in her hair and another drew her fingers away from her mouth, intertwining them with his own, as he sat down in the chair so recently vacated by Lisanna. Mirajane couldn't help the relief that flowed through her as he simply sat next to her, silently offering strength, while she sobbed out years of hidden pain onto the white bedclothes.

* * *

She woke to a raw throat and a stuffed up nose, clear indicators of a crying bout she rarely allowed herself to indulge in and, for a moment, Mirajane was completely disoriented. Gradually her vision cleared and she remembered; a dull ache that she hadn't been aware of, but that had been present even in sleep, beat along with her heart and she had to force herself to turn her head. She regretted the outburst of emotion, hated that Freed had _again_ been the one to unleash her hidden feelings, but relief buoyed her flagging spirits – she hadn't felt this light in years.

He was still sitting where he had been, carefully watching her with his inscrutable eyes, in almost exactly the same pose as when she'd fallen asleep after crying herself into exhaustion. Freed slowly leaned forward, one long-fingered hand reaching up to tuck the lock of hair that permanently fell into his face behind his ear, so he could meet her gaze properly.

"I never thought less of you, Mira. No one did. I only thought that you shouldn't hide yourself away. I didn't understand – but now I do and that makes it doubly my fault that you were injured. If I'd known how you feel I would have gone looking for Elfman myself if it would have made you happy."

The shortened version of her name fell from his lips almost like an endearment and her blush nearly matched his as he choked on the last words he spoke, though he forced himself to complete the sentence. A slow smile bloomed on her face as the words really sunk in; from Freed they were as good a declaration and she didn't quite know what to make of the wildness that rose inside her. She couldn't describe it; there were no words, it was like flying – impossible to understand unless you'd done it yourself.

"You wouldn't have been able to stop me if you tried."

She attempted to push herself into a sitting position again but she couldn't help relaxing into his hold as he rose to assist, his hands curving warmly around her shoulders, and all other thoughts flew from her head. He was so close, the scent of rain and something that was indefinably _Freed_ – a mixture of the spice of his cologne and the warmth of his skin – washing over her until she wanted to close her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder where she could breathe him in properly. If her eyes were closed she could pretend they were back in the clearing, with no one around and suspended in time, with no reason to do anything like try and identify what the confusion meant.

He bent over, carefully laying her back on the plumped up pillows, his hair falling forward to brush against her cheek and she wanted, so badly, to reach up and tangle her fingers in the silky strands; to draw his head down until their lips met and she knew if this feeling rising like a balloon was real or just her imagination …

Half-lidded blue eyes flew wide open at the sound of her name whispered near her ear, so his warm breath washed over her cheek, making tingles race down her spine. Their eyes met but the intensity shining in his gaze was too much and, almost involuntarily, Mirajane found her eyes falling to his mouth, wondering what he would feel like, if the almost-pouting curve of his lips would be as soft as they appeared. As if he read her thoughts, something she envied him because she had no idea what to make of them herself, one hand rose to cup her cheek while the other remained on her shoulder where he'd placed it to help her sit up. She leaned into his palm, breathing him in, her heart beating so fast that she was sure her ribs should be aching but she couldn't feel anything except the feather-light touch of his lips against hers.

The world jerked and solid reality slipped out from beneath his feet; the infirmary fading away until there was only Mirajane left in his universe. Mere inches separated their lips and her breath fell in frenzied gasps onto his mouth even though the kiss hadn't been more than a light brush. For the first time, Freed allowed the tingling at the base of his spine to send its electric shocks throughout his body; her hair threaded through his fingers like strands of the purest silk while her eyes locked onto his, darkened to midnight blue by emotions he couldn't pinpoint.

"Mira…"

Was that really his voice, coated in so much want that he could barely identify the hoarse sound as her name.

"I know…" her whisper was slow and soft and achingly sweet; full of acceptance.

Freed closed his eyes, firmly trying to rein in the desire to kiss her again; she was injured and emotionally still vulnerable and…

Her hands fisted in the fabric covering his chest and his eyes flew wide, trying to gauge her expression, trying to read her mind but, as always, it proved to be an exercise in futility. He was drowning in her; her touch, her scent, the softness of her hands trailing up his neck to tangle in his hair. She pulled him towards her, angling his head down, but there was no need, he was already moving on his own.

A soft grunt exploded from his chest, fading into nothing against her mouth and, instinctively, his tongue slid out to tap cautiously, questioningly, against her lower lip. She mewled softly as she opened her mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair and the pleasure-pain sent shudders racing down his spine that he couldn't hide – didn't want to hide. Slowly, fear and anticipation fading into burning excitement, he swept his tongue into her mouth, stroking softly over and under hers. His heart pounded, slamming against the cage of his ribs so hard that he was sure it should have hurt but he could focus on nothing except the way she felt, trembling against him as she hesitantly responded to the caress.

Still uncertain, wondering if this was really what she wanted but unable to stop himself from wanting more, Freed tilted his head and slanted his mouth over hers. Pressing forward, his hands swept up her neck to cup her head, his fingers burrowing into her hair as he deepened the kiss. Her moan fell almost soundlessly onto his tongue and the taste of her pleasure awakened something within him – a rising tide of pure masculine pride. He wanted more, so much more and so badly, but the urge to breathe was becoming unbearable; for himself he didn't mind, didn't care to ever breathe anything but her kiss ever again, but with a rush of sudden, fierce emotion he wrenched himself away from her and took a step back for good measure. It was his fault she was lying in this hospital bed, enduring pain that she should never have had to feel and, if Freed had any say in the matter, Mirajane would never again feel any pain or sadness or discomfort – least of all because of him.

Sapphire eyes locked onto his, surprise and wonder shining brightly from the hazy orbs and she fell back bonelessly. For a moment that fierce, fleeting, possessive pride flared again but she cried out, biting down on her lower lip to stifle the sounds of pain and pressed a hand against her right side, her entire body taut with tension. Without realizing it he moved, hovered over her, hating the fact that he could do nothing to ease her pain and guilt ripped through him at the thought that he'd quite probably made the pain worse with his inability to control himself.

"Mira …" his voice trailed away helplessly as he reached a hand out to her.

She grabbed his hand, instinct guiding her unerringly though her eyes were still closed, as she struggled for breath, and twined her fingers tightly around his. Finally, her breathing eased somewhat and she relaxed against the pillows, opening her eyes to smile up at him.

"I'm fine," she laughed lightly only to wince a moment later, "I just forgot about the stupid ribs – shouldn't have fallen back like that."

The guilt and the self-loathing must have shown clearly on his face because she sobered and stared intently up at him.

"Freed, please, don't do that. Don't blame yourself for everything." She blushed, a delicate tinge of rose high on her cheeks, "I-I … when you … k-kissed me, I forgot about the pain, and that's a good thing."

She stumbled a little over her words, but the earnest light shining from her eyes, more than anything else, convinced him that she was all right and Freed allowed himself to relax, a little. In an unconscious gesture, his hand went to his sword, fiddling with the hilt, pushing it back and forth. He could feel the weight of her gaze resting on him; the questions he had no answers for.

What was this? He didn't know. How could he ever begin to explain the way she made him feel as if he was flying? How the sight of her sweet smile pulled at his heart; the way her touch made him feel as if he was alive for the first time, the addictive sweetness of her lips giving him something really _worth_ living for. She confused him – he didn't know if he was coming or going, and he wasn't sure whether he liked that or not … all he really knew was that he would kill anyone that ever tried to hurt her; would go to the ends of the earth and back only to earn one of her smiles. There was no way he could ever give this up, not after having found it so unexpectedly, but he had no idea of how to articulate that or if it even meant something.

A slight frown drew her brows together and she hesitantly reached a hand out to him, her expression clearing somewhat when he immediately responded; placing his hand into hers and allowing her to draw soft patterns over his skin, her fingertips tracing the lines of his Fairy Tail tattoo.

He leaned forward, suddenly driven to speak; he had to make her _see, _had to make her understand. "Mira … I-I …can't stop." The words were edged in desperate confusion.

"I … don't want you to." Her answering whisper, full of gentle acceptance, eased the shadows from his eyes and she smiled up at him, hesitantly happy for the first time since Elfman had failed to return on time from his job. Distantly, a warning voice spoke, telling her of the danger this one man held for her; how, if she allowed him to, he could make her happier than she had ever been but simultaneously reminding her that the price for such happiness was power over her. The power to break her in a way that even Lisanna's disappearance hadn't been able to. She was so used to being in control, always in control, the one everyone else looked to for advice and a helping hand and she was afraid of letting go. Scared that, if she allowed him in, he would become the one _she _turned to for help.

"But … I'm afraid." Her eyes shone with tears and she gritted her teeth to keep from showing how much fear her honesty evoked.

His hand cupped her cheek and she involuntarily closed her eyes, leaning against his palm and trying to soak in as much of him as she could – just in case this was the last chance she would ever have to be this close to him. Warm puffs of air brushed softly over her lips and her mouth parted instinctively, but instead of kissing away the doubts and the fears, he spoke. Mirajane slowly opened her eyes, watching him warily as she fought for enough composure to listen through the haze his nearness pulled over her senses.

"I will never hurt you."

The tears flowed unchecked and silently down her cheeks for the umpteenth time since she'd opened her eyes, but they mingled with the kiss, turning the promise into a vow, sealed with the taste of salt on their lips.

"Freed! What the hell – get away from my sister!"

He was suddenly gone, ripped away from her with no warning, and in that moment of pure fear, while her thoughts struggled out of the pleasurable haze his nearness evoked; trying to come to grips with the loss of the sweet pressure of his lips against hers, Mirajane realized, with sudden clarity, that it was already far too late. Doubts and fear lingered, but the mere idea of losing him for good was enough to make up her mind.

Finally, the confusion retreated and Mirajane stared in silent shock at the spectacle in front of her. Lisanna hovered in the door, a bag dropped at her feet and her fingers pressed to her mouth, blue eyes wide with surprise. Elfman pressed Freed against the furthest wall, fists bunched so the knuckles showed whitely through his taut skin, as he slammed the shorter man against the wall again. For a moment, she was frozen; unsure of what to do – violence was hardly anything new in Fairy Tail, and it wouldn't be the last time Elfman decided to speak with his fists instead of with words, but the thought of Freed in any pain was enough to yank her out of her stupor.

"Elfman! Stop it!"

As if her voice broke the spell, Lisanna suddenly moved forward; slender hands reaching up to rest on her brother's tense arm, as she spoke soothingly.

"Elf-nii, let go. It's okay, just let go."

Waves of pure rage were coming off her younger brother and Mirajane cursed her inability to really _do _anything. Until now, Freed had merely taken the abuse – almost as if he felt he deserved it – but she could see the way anger was slowly creeping over the expressionless mask and sudden, but very real fear, washed over her.

This wasn't the usual fight – more for fun than anything else. If they honestly started fighting in earnest, she was afraid of the destruction that would result …

"Elfman!" Her voice trembled, and maybe that was what finally got through to him, but her brother slowly dropped his hands and stepped back; carefully placing his body between Freed and his sisters.

Long hair fell forward and obscured Freed's expression from view, though Mirajane was desperate for any clue as to what he was feeling, as he slowly straightened his coat, brushing the wrinkles out of the fabric.

"My apologies for causing a scene," he said, stiffly with a slight bow in Lisanna's direction though he avoided looked at either of her siblings. He was at the door before he turned slightly, looking at the girl in the bed intently, "Mira, I'll visit later."

And he was gone. But the warmth that had washed over her as his gaze swept slowly up and down her body remained; a blush heated her cheeks and, with a groan, Mirajane dropped her face into her hands, trying to hide from her siblings' astonished glares.

* * *

The days slowly turned into weeks, until finally the ache in her side subsided. Though Wendy had returned Mirajane refused to let the young girl heal her – feeling, in some ways, as if the pain was a penance she should serve for making irrational decisions. There was also the lingering fear that maybe her cracked ribs was the only thing binding Freed to her and, if that was the case, she wanted to draw as much out of the experience as she possibly could.

He rarely left her side; the odd job he took was always within Magnolia itself so he could return to her once the day ended. No matter how she pleaded with him to go out and work – he needed the money, who didn't? – he refused anything but the ones he had to take, if only to ensure that he didn't starve. The happy bubble she was encased in was marred only slightly by her brother's continued hostile attitude and the fact that she was forced to remain in bed until everyone was satisfied that she was fully recovered.

News of her and Freed's kiss had spread rapidly through the guild and once the trickle of visitors started it turned into a flood – some, like Evergreen and Bixlow, coming only to try and ascertain if the rumors were true. But Freed and Mirajane both kept quiet; it was all still too new, too uncertain, to really be shared with anyone else and she almost preferred it that way. Somehow she had begun to think of him solely as _hers _and she hated the thought of sharing him – with anyone. The possessiveness was new, not something she was used to feeling, but the guilt it brought always faded away – as everything did – when Freed was with her.

Hours and hours were spent simply being together; talking quietly, getting to know each other on a level they never had before. To her surprise, Mirajane found that he made her laugh, his dry sense of humor peeking through the seriousness once he felt more comfortable with her. The intimacy that grew incrementally still frightened her from time to time though she couldn't help but take comfort in the fact that there was someone who knew her beneath the layers. With Freed, she didn't have to be perfect – didn't have to worry about what he thought of her or what he needed from her; she could just _be_.

Elfman and Lisanna visited daily but her brother was cold, distant, in a way that she hadn't ever thought he could be and she had no idea of how to change that. She could only give him time and hope that he would get used to the idea of having Freed in her life. She could understand where Elfman was coming from; he must have felt like he was losing her – that Freed was stealing his sister away from him but as long as he didn't give her a chance to reassure him there was nothing she could do. Surprisingly her sister adjusted much more quickly than she could have predicted. Of course, Lisanna was a sweet girl – always ready to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, always ready to be happy with them for anything that brought them joy. In a way, she was thankful for Lisanna's accommodating nature – otherwise she would never have known of the misery Freed was suffering because of her.

The entire guild was giving him the cold-shoulder – his friends included. According to Lisanna, they felt betrayed by what they regarded as his defection from the Raijinshuu – apparently Evergreen had thrown down an ultimatum: them or Mirajane, because he couldn't wholeheartedly commit himself to either while the other was present in his life. She had cried for nearly an entire afternoon once Lisanna had related how he'd quietly stared Evergreen down, until her ranting her faded away, and then silently risen to his feet and walked out the door; only returning after his job had been completed to visit Mirajane, carefully avoiding everyone's eyes.

Apparently, everyone felt as if he'd taken advantage of her – there was even talk of love spells and one of the rare bolts of anger had ripped through her once Lisanna imparted that piece of gossip. Did everyone think her such an idiot that they couldn't believe she could decide anything for herself? Through the ranting and the sobs, as Lisanna carefully combed soothing fingers through her hair, Mirajane had cursed Freed and his pride. Because he never said a word to her, not to voice a complaint or even make a joke out of it, there was no other choice but to pretend that she knew nothing of the state of affairs.

Laxus was the biggest surprise – the turning point; just when everything threatened to come crashing down onto her new-found happiness. He appeared in the doorway late one afternoon, a hulking shadow with inscrutable eyes, and plopped unceremoniously down on the chair by her bed. Mirajane instinctively straightened her spine; ignoring the slight twinges of protest her ribs gave and met his gaze steadily.

Finally, he spoke, "Freed is difficult to understand. He looks inward and doesn't like to share his thoughts, but if you know him at all, by now you will have learned to read between the lines of what he says or does to identify what he really feels. You will know that you cannot find a more loyal or true friend anywhere. This is none of my business, Mirajane. But because he is what he is and because he is my friend, I will tell you this: he's laid it all on the line for you – you have his heart."

His eyes remained locked with hers as he rose to his feet; she seemed shocked into silence, though emotions glimmered in her eyes as she stared at up at him.

"Take care you don't break it."

The slight smile that pulled at his lips as he left had Mirajane breathing a sigh of relief – she hadn't even known she was holding her breath, hadn't realized how anxious she was about Laxus' reaction. If there was one person in the world Freed would listen to then it was the master's grandson and his opinion was important to Freed, whether he would admit it or not.

* * *

"Please, Freed."

Mirajane turned pleading eyes to his, putting every ounce of feeling she could muster into the gaze; having learned that if she turned puppy eyes on him he was more than likely to crumble and give her whatever she wanted, even if it went against his better judgment. A muscle in his cheek jumped as he gritted his teeth and carefully averted his eyes, though he made no move to get off the bed they were lying on, twisted together in a tangle of limbs.

"Mira…" his voice contained a warning note, already wavering into pained indecision, as she stroked soft fingertips down his neck.

"Please. It's not so much to ask, is it? I've been lying in this bed for nearly two months and I'm terribly tired of quick showers! I'm all better and I would really like a relaxing soak in the hot springs."

"The master has not informed us of the doctor's final report – until such a time as he does, you cannot do anything other than follow the advice and rest."

She hid her smile in his neck as nimble fingers pulled his coat open, removing the annoying cravat and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. He shivered slightly as she trailed her fingers over the newly bared skin and touched the tip of her tongue to the sensitive spot behind his ear.

"Please ..." she breathed, suppressing the laugh as his breath hitched and his entire body tensed against hers, "just for a few hours. They're all drinking downstairs and won't even notice we're gone. I'll be back in bed before they even think of retiring for the night."

A groaned growl rumbled through his chest as she hitched her leg over his hip and pushed herself up, straddling him with her hands braced on his chest. Instinctively, his hands sought her hips and he stared up at her with pleading in his gaze as she leaned forward to press her lips against his. His fingers pushed and pulled until they could slip beneath the hem of her tank-top, stroking softly up and down her spine as he dragged her down and lifted his chin. Tongues tangled sensuously, heat settling over the room as the kiss spiraled out of control. With his last shred of sanity Freed pulled away before he could lose himself totally in the intoxicating feel of her pressed against him and, in one smooth motion, flipped them over. Mirajane laughed delightedly, one hand resting next to her on the pillow, the other clinging to his shoulder as her legs wrapped around his hips to hold him close.

His breath caught in his throat, a sudden ache in his chest as he stared down at her. One hand lifted, the other supporting his weight above her, as he traced reverent fingertips down the curve of her cheek, thumb coming to rest on the kiss-swollen line of her lips. He brushed his fingers along the seam, staring intently down at her; trying to imprint every inch of her into his memory, to burn her indelibly into his mind. There was no doubt in him that this couldn't last; she deserved so much more – about that, at least, everyone in Fairy Tail and half of Magnolia was entirely right, even if they'd completely misjudged his motives. The last months had been the happiest of his life, his only saving grace returning to her side to lose himself in her soft skin and sweet-smelling hair as the rest of his guild-family watched his passage to and from her sick room with suspicion.

The vow he'd made – to never hurt her – was the most important rule in his life now and he abided by it with all the single-minded determination he was capable of. No matter how she teased, no matter how his body demanded, he refused to totally give in. The temptation was there – so unbearably sweet that at times he thought he'd lose his mind with wanting her. But until she was back into her normal routine, until she was really sure that she wanted to give herself to him, he would stand firm against the increasingly heated kisses and steadily more frantic caresses.

A deep breath, to help push the rising desire to the back of his mind, and he spoke softly, "Don't ask this of me, please, Mira. I don't want to prove them all right."

The levity drained from her gaze and suddenly troubled eyes stared up at him, "Why do you do this, Freed?" she asked at last, broaching, for the first time, a topic they'd both avoided like the plague. "Why do you let them treat you this way? Why haven't you told me? I had to hear it from Lisanna – always waiting for you to confide in me… but until you do, until you trust me, I can't do anything about changing everyone's minds."

A crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, "Of course I trust you. There was just nothing to say." He shrugged, "I expected it, to be honest. No one was ever going to be good enough for you, not in the eyes of your family and friends."

Sudden fierce emotion shone from her eyes and she spoke through gritted teeth as she tangled her fingers almost painfully in his hair, forcing him to look at her, "_I _say you're more than good enough and I'm tired of timidly hiding in a sick-room!"

Warily, Freed pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed and sighed. "Mirajane, it's not as simple as that. The only way to prove them wrong is over time; I don't mind."

"Well, I mind!" she returned hotly, marveling for the millionth time how he had the power to unlock all her previously carefully controlled emotions, "And it ends now.″ Determination radiated off every line of her body as she swung her legs off the bed and reached for street clothes spilling from her bag.

"What are you doing?" Freed asked, alarm ringing in his tone.

Over her shoulder, and as she pulled a dress over her head, to cover the thin tank-top and boy-cut shorts she'd worn to bed, Mirajane replied, "I'm going to the hot springs like I wanted to. You are welcome to join me. I hope you will. And tomorrow, I am going back to work – no matter what any doctor says – and so will you. First thing in the morning, I think a talk is in order with my brother and your friends."

She didn't give him a chance to protest, no opportunity to try and change her mind, as she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and stalked from the room without another word.

Yes, Freed reflected ruefully, she was definitely more than capable of being just as frightening as Erza when she put her mind to it.

* * *

Freed caught up with Mirajane on the street just outside the guild. He'd rushed through the hall, ignoring the suspicious looks taking in his disheveled appearance, not caring that half of them where already cracking their knuckles in preparation for a fight. He didn't even care very much that they all must have jumped to the conclusion that he had done something to cause Mirajane to want to get away from him. No one tried to stop them, for which he was thankful.

"Mira, wait!"

She slowed her step slightly and he drew level with her but before he could say anything she turned, standing on tip-toe to press a single finger against his lips.

"If you've decided to come with me then please don't spoil it – let's just enjoy the evening."

He wanted to tell that she shouldn't be ridiculous, that he would follow into the pits of hell if that was where she wanted to go – it went without saying – but his expression must have gotten the sentiment across though the words refused to come. She smiled happily up at him and slipped her hand into his; so naturally … as if the spaces between his fingers had been made to cradle her smaller hand, and pulled him along in her wake.

* * *

He felt naked without his sword; just unbuckling it and laying it aside already enough to discomfit him but, as if some otherworldly force was bidding him to their will, he continued undressing; sitting on the bench to undo the buttons of his boots, letting the heavy coat fall from his shoulders, as he valiantly attempted to keep his mind away from any thoughts regarding Mirajane and naked skin. His courage failed him as his pants slipped down narrow hips to pool around his feet and he defiantly decided to leave his boxers on – she could make of that what she wanted. The towel wrapped securely around his hips, he finally took a deep breath and stepped out onto the small, wooden deck that surrounded the springs, forcing himself to remember that she hadn't meant the invitation as a come-on; this was no different than the occasional times he'd found himself sharing a spring with Eve and Bixlow, when their jobs took them to far-flung and remote locations.

A quick tug and his hair fell loose from the low ponytail he habitually wore and he quickly gathered the long strands into a careless knot at the top of his head. Another deep breath and he finally felt sufficiently in control of himself to face her; slowly he stepped forward, onto the edges of the wet rocks that lined their small private pool.

* * *

He honestly took her breath away. Mirajane bit her lip and hoped the blush could be chalked up to the hot water as she watched from her shadowy corner while Freed stepped out of the changing room and into the moonlight. The soft glow of the rays played over well-defined, if not overly developed, muscles rippling in his chest and arms as he quickly gathered his hair into a high knot to keep it out of the water. The stubborn bangs almost immediately fell forward to block one eye but he merely impatiently pushed it behind his ear as he searched for her through the gloom. Deciding that it would be cowardly to wait any longer, she quickly swam into view, stopping in the middle of the pool, treading water as she smiled softly up at him.

"See? Wasn't this a good idea?" she teased, turning to swim to the other side of the small pool again, so he could at least have the illusion of privacy while getting into the water. A blissful sigh puffed from her lips as she turned to float on her back, hair spreading like a halo around her head, "We needed to get away from the guild, if only for a little while."

Her murmured words were greeted with a non-committal sound made at the back of his throat and Mirajane cracked an eye open to glare reproachfully at Freed, now in the pool and a scant few feet away from her. He smiled, a low chuckle falling from his lips as he shook his head and swam to the rock ledge at the furthest end of the pool. The ledge was perfectly sculpted for resting on, half-floating in the perfect water, and he leaned his head back onto a flat rock, staring up at the stars, listening to the sounds of water splashing softly as Mirajane floated peacefully in the middle of the pool.

For a long time silence reigned and he was finally beginning to relax, to enjoy the experience when ripples of water washing quietly against his chest warned him of her approach. A hand touched down onto each of his knees and he lazily opened his eyes to peer down at her. Wet hair slicked down her back, the ends floating in the water like molten silver as she used the leverage of his body to anchor her in the rippling waves her movements had caused. Automatically he reached out to steady her, fingers wrapping tightly around her elbows and she allowed him to pull her closer and turn her onto her back. Her legs tangled with his and her wet hair served as an effective covering , sticking to her breasts and her ribs as her torso lifted from the water. Instinctively, Freed wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest; unwilling to let her float away from him again. She leaned back, a sigh falling from her lips as she placed her hands over his and rested her head on his shoulder. His heart was pounding in his chest – she must have felt the thundering cadence – but she stayed quiet as she traced wet patterns on his forearms.

Freed tried his hardest to will the lust pooling low in his abdomen away, tried to focus on the peace of the moment, but she turned slightly in his hold, to press her cheek against his collarbone as she curled more comfortably into him and her hips were pushed into view before sinking back into the inky blackness of the pool. One quick glance, one small fraction of time – just enough to see the wet, black lace clinging to the curve of her hip – was all it took, and the battle was lost. With a low groan of defeat he bent his head and pulled her up, his tongue thrusting into her mouth in a harsh and desperate kiss as his hands settled on her hips. His fingers brushed over the tantalizing scrap of lace and he guided her legs to part, one knee on either side of his hips until she was straddling him, her breasts crushed against his chest. The friction of wet skin against wet skin, accompanied by the smooth slide of their lower bodies, just barely touching below the water, made lights explode behind his closed eyelids, granted urgency to his hands as they explored the contours of her body. Sweeping touches over her back, her stomach and her ribs until she wrenched her mouth away to gasp for air.

Mirajane's knees scraped against the rock as she desperately tried to get closer but the rock ledge was too small and an anxious, mewling moan broke through the still air as she arched her back deeper into the wet kisses he pressed down the line of her neck. Fingers clenched into claws, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as she writhed in his arms, but he only groaned, burying his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder and sucking harder at the soft skin.

A shudder ran down his spine, she could feel his body reacting; hardness pressing into her inner thigh, and she dazedly realized that he liked the pleasure mixed with a little bit of pain. Carefully she leaned slightly forward, scraped her nails down his spine and reveled in his grunt as the breath exploded from his lungs. Blindly he sought her mouth, hands roving over her body, trying to touch every inch of skin simultaneously; he was lost, aware of nothing but the way her frame tensed and trembled against his. His bit at her lower lip, and sucked her tongue lightly into his mouth, coaxing her to fight for domination of the kiss. The hand he'd been using to angle her head for the kiss slipped down over her throat, fingertips tracing the lines of her collarbones, inching lower until he could stroke softly over the tops of her breasts. She arched her back, losing control of the kiss but refusing to relinquish his mouth, wordlessly pushing up against him. They had to breathe, and the kiss was broken as he panted against her skin and she into his hair, his fingertips making their slow, inexorably way around the curve of her breast.

The moan, a clear cry for more, was muffled as she bit her lip and tossed her head back. His tongue traced slow whorls over her throat, palm finally sliding up her ribcage to cup the heaving mound in his hand. She was soft, so soft, and her back kept arching as she pressed against him in an attempt to get closer but there was nowhere for her to go as the ledge and the water kept them always just slightly apart. It was so hard not to let go, to not just pull her out of the pool and take her there on the rocks but he'd promised himself … and she deserved more. One hand between her breasts, pushing her backward slightly and he bent over her, slowly petting the distended tip of one breast with his tongue. She jerked in his arms, as he suddenly sucked hard; drawing the delightful little peak into his mouth, and moaned his name. It was almost too much. It took all his willpower to pull away, to push her up into a semi-sitting position where she didn't provide so much of a temptation. Heat danced between them, bolts of lightning shooting down his spine, as they panted for breath, staring at each other through the haze of moisture and want.

Eyes, heavy-lidded, stared into his, barely aware of anything going on around her as Mirajane fought against his hold; tried to get closer. "Don't stop," she panted, half-moaned, and the sound went straight to his groin; his body jumping within the wet confines of his boxers.

"Not here, Mira. In a room, on a bed, alone – when we have nothing but time."

The words were gasped back at her as she finally managed to find an angle and her hips grinded down. Nearly crying with frustration – he could see the acceptance of his words shining from her eyes through the sheen of wanting –her hips stilled and her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his collarbone. Her breath still raced, sending small shudders down his spine every time it brushed against his sensitive skin, but he firmly forced himself to think of anything but the half-naked girl in his arms, as he stroked his palms soothingly down her back.

* * *

The weeks slowly turned into months, the seasons passing by without her noticing, she was so caught up in the sudden and unexpected happiness life had thrown her way. Freed had been right and, with the passage of time, as it became clearer and clearer to everyone that she was with him because she chose to be, the guild had gradually begun to accept the status quo. A few choice words, to Evergreen and Elfman, the day after she'd decided to book herself out of the infirmary, had settled the matter, as far as Mirajane was concerned. With time, they too, had come to accept the relationship and life had settled into a surprising routine of happy events. Mirajane frowned as she wiped absentmindedly at the already clean bar, unoccupied hand waving vaguely in response to the greeting someone shouted her way.

Freed was very definitely going to great lengths to avoid being alone with her – she was sure of it now. He never allowed them more than a few moments of solitude, and those mostly when he walked her home at night. It wasn't that he didn't want her, on that score she had no fears; the wanting was only too clear in the way he pressed her up against the nearest wall, his mouth hungrily slanting over hers the moment the last person vacated the guild building at night. She could almost taste how badly he wanted her – the heartbreaking sweetness of his kisses in the dark stairwell as they said goodnight …

The problem was that he seemed determined to fight against it.

Mirajane sighed, staring in surprise at the spot of wood that glowed more brightly than the rest from her vigorous polishing, and her problem was that she had no idea how to broach the topic without alienating him further. But she hated how he withdrew, held just that small intimacy away from her, as if he couldn't bear to part with it – as if letting her in totally and opening himself up to such a vulnerable situation was something that he wasn't prepared to give. Her mouth thinned, lips pressed together in thought, and she decided that she could live with giving him that space – if space was what he needed – if only he could _tell _her that was what he wanted.

The rest of the day passed by agonizingly slowly; Mirajane constantly searching for the pieces of her courage, building them up into a steady house of cards that collapsed the first time she thought about confronting him about it. The only way was to talk it through, she knew that, but fear that he would react negatively – that he maybe didn't want her, that she read him wrong, and that this would serve only to drive them further apart, kept her nerves on edge. Lisanna and Elfman were both on jobs in other towns, as was Freed, but he was due back that day and she firmly reminded herself that such an opportunity wouldn't arise again quickly.

It was long past dark when the knock finally sounded on her door, ringing through the empty apartment in a nearly thunderous crash. Mirajane jumped, the book she'd been pretending interest in falling from suddenly nerveless fingers to land on the floor. She was on her feet, hovering at the door, frantic fingers combing through her hair before she really even realized it, and she grabbed her courage firmly as she opened the door, sweet smile of greeting firmly in place and no sign of her trepidation visible in her expression.

* * *

It had been a long day – a long job. Before Mirajane's restful presence he'd never really paid much mind to exactly how taxing the rest of the Raijinshuu were but he'd been firmly reminded on this last trip. With friendly relations finally restored, they'd prattled incessantly the entire time, Bixlow's dolls adding their two cents every few seconds until he'd been sure he would lose his mind. Three-quarters of the comments were slyly directed at him as his friends fished for details about his relationship with Mirajane and Freed had never been as glad to see Magnolia on the horizon, just as the sun was setting. Evergreen and Bixlow had opted to stay at a small hotel on the road leading out of Magnolia, too tired to finish the remainder of the journey that day, but Freed had gathered the last of his magic reserves and channeled it into his wings so he could make it back before midnight.

Just the sight of her soothed him – the hunger and the cold withdrawing as he basked in her presence alone. Without words, he pulled her into his arms, still marveling that she wrapped hers around his waist with no hesitation, and buried his nose in her hair. The headache was receding but he was increasingly becoming aware of the aches and pains he'd gathered on the way back, of the dust that clung to his hair and his skin.

She pulled away and stared up at him in concern, "Come inside, you're freezing!"

He followed with no protest, content to just be with her again, as she dragged him towards the bathroom and pushed a fluffy towel into his hands.

"Take a shower, I'll make you something to eat," she whispered, standing on tip-toe and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

With her finally within reach – it really _had _been the longest three days of his life – he was reluctant to let her go so quickly but the lure of warm water and warm food overcame the reticence and Freed quickly complied. The warm water worked wonders and when he finally stepped out from under the heated spray he was surprised to find his cloak, sword and boots gone though the rest of his clothes were folded neatly on top of the cabinet. One touch and he realized that Mirajane had, somehow, managed to both clean and dry his shirt, boxers and pants while he had been in the shower and he gratefully slipped the clothes on.

The smell of food immediately made his stomach rumble when he opened the bathroom door and he followed his nose to the kitchen where Mirajane hummed as she worked. It was a shock every time he saw her; as if he had forgotten how beautiful she was in the interim and his breath caught in his throat as he watched her heating the soup. It would be so easy to get used to this; to get used to coming home to Mirajane every night and he quickly forced his thoughts away from such dangerous territory.

After eating he felt vaguely human again and allowed her to lead him into the living room where she'd stoked the fire so the flames crackled merrily. Wearily he sank down onto the thick carpet in front of the fireplace, not even protesting when she reached up and undid the knot he'd pulled his wet hair into after the shower. Her fingers were soothing as she spread the wet length down his back and, as she combed through his hair so it would dry, he finally felt the last vestiges of the journey falling away.

"It was a nightmare," he muttered, grabbing her hands and pulling her forward so her arms wrapped around his neck from behind. He pressed kisses to each of her fingertips as he spoke, "They wouldn't keep quiet – either of them! They kept pushing and prodding and wanting to know absolutely every single detail of everything I do."

Her laughter huffed softly into his ear, stirring the dried strands of hair hanging loosely over his shoulders, "That's a good thing, isn't it? Means they've finally forgiven you and accepted that you haven't abandoned them."

"Do they have to be so vocal about it?" he returned, somewhat sourly, but with a soft sigh gave himself over to her busy fingers as she pressed them into his shoulders, carefully kneading the knots into nothingness. Languor stole over him at her touch and he lazily complied when her fingers reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled the garment over his head, so caught up in the way her hands and her mouth trailed fire over first his back and then his chest that he didn't realize the danger until it was too late.

Hesitant fingertips settled on the button of his pants and his breath caught as his eyes flew to hers. The pleading, the uncertainty and the questions, that shimmered in her cerulean gaze was his undoing he pulled her head down into an eager kiss. Maybe it was time to take the leap of faith, to trust that Mirajane truly wanted this – wanted _him _– and give himself over to the feelings that had been building up inside him over the last few months. Heaven knew, he'd never wanted anything as badly as he wanted her – he'd lost count of the times he'd woken in the night, his body aching for release after his almost fevered dreams of her.

The tab of the zipper holding her dress closed was cold under his fingers. At the urging of his hands on her hips Mirajane slowly turned around on her knees, facing away from him, one hand holding the long length of her hair out of the way, as he stroked one hand down her back to still her trembling. The rasp the teeth made as he drew the zipper down her back, exposing the porcelain skin to his gaze, was incredibly loud over the popping of the fire but Freed had no more strength left; he couldn't deny himself or her any longer no matter what the outcome.

One brush of his hands over her shoulders and the garment fell from her frame to pool around her middle. Instinctively Mirajane crossed her arms, though her back was still turned, but he simply held onto her hips and kissed a slow line of open-mouthed kisses down her spine. She shivered, half-moaned, as he gently drew her back to lie against his chest. His fingers closed around her wrists, wondering at the delicate bones, tracing softly over the backs of her hands until she relaxed and her arms fell away from her chest. He moved carefully out from under her, not wanting to scare her into awkwardness, all the while feeling the weight of her heavy-lidded gaze on him, and pushed her onto her back.

Worshipful hands stroked over her curves, the indent of her waist, the slight flare of her hips, and back up again to cup her breasts. A breathless sound fell from her lips as she writhed under his touch, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, mouth slightly parted as her body responded to his soft caresses. She panted in anticipation as his hands brushed over her stomach, lifted her hips accommodatingly so he could pull the dress completely off of her body. His pants followed the same path as her dress, tossed careless to the side, as he tried to force his wayward body to do his bidding; his thoughts away from the scrap of silk and lace that remained on hers.

She blushed obviously, even with the flush of arousal coating her skin in a warm glow, but he held her gaze as he moved between her legs, a hand on each knee to spread them apart and make room for him. His breath came heavily, anticipation coiling in his blood, as his hips settled in the cradle of hers, her softness crushed against him. Fingers burrowed and clenched into her hair as he tilted her head and pressed his lips against hers; carefully, softly, always slow, trying to ignore the heavy pulse that had started with his body settling over hers.

Their lips clung even as he tried to withdraw, tried to communicate everything he was feeling to her through his touch but it wasn't enough.

"So beautiful," he whispered against her skin as he trailed light bites down the curving arc of her neck. "So unbelievably beautiful."

Her thighs lay across his, spreading accommodatingly as he shifted slightly onto his knees , his hands running up her sides, over every inch of skin he could touch. She jumped, bit down on her lower lip, and her body trembled violently when he smoothed his hand over the curve of her rear. Lifting her slightly he allowed his tongue to trail gently down her inner thigh, to finally just brush against the edge of the damp lace that still covered her.

Slender fingers dug into his forearms as she pulled him back up her body and, as if she'd read his mind, as if she'd known exactly what he'd been wanting, needing to hear, Mirajane cupped his face between her fingers as he settled over her once again and whispered against his lips, "Yours."

Exultant excitement raced from his head to his toes and back up his body only to melt into the pool of desire simmering in his blood. Freed crushed her to him, meeting in a passionate kiss of lips, teeth and tongue as his hands trailed down her sides, stopping behind her knees and urging her legs to wrap around his hips. It was too much, far too much to bear, to finally have Mirajane spread out beneath him, warm and willing and moaning his name softly, and his body surged forward. Her hips bucked perfectly to receive him, the friction of the scant pieces of clothing left between them making them both cry out at the pleasurable touch.

The slow, steady building of desire had been too long denied and it all crashed down on them in one swift , heated rush. He had to be inside her, had to have her, and the desperation that laced her voice as she whispered his name while pressing kisses against his neck convinced him that she wanted it as much as he did. He sat back, fingers hooking over her hips and into the soft fabric. One yank and she lifted her hips then they were sliding off of her and she was, finally, gloriously naked. Freed groaned, his lips pressed against her knee, nipping lightly at the soft flesh, as his fingers encountered slick warmth. He pressed forward, curling his fingers inside her, glorying in the arch of her back as her head tossed from side to side and her fingers clawed into the carpet beneath her. Mirajane bucked her hips, silently asking for more, and his pace quickened; fingers thrusting rapidly forward only to slowly withdraw. She rippled around the invading digits, trying to drag him deeper and suddenly he couldn't wait. Moisture pooled around his fingers, a sure sign of her excitement, and he'd had enough; wouldn't be able to survive another of her mewling cries.

The boxers were off – and he was harder than he'd ever been in his life – she was urging him closer, her ankles hooking around his hips and he couldn't _think_. Heavy breaths pushed out of his lungs, he pressed his forehead against her shoulder and prayed for enough control to last. Slowly, carefully, he positioned himself between her legs and, inexorably, his hips moved forward as he cautiously pushed against her. The soft flesh gave way, wet silk enveloping just the head, and Freed stopped, forcing the sounds of pleasure to remain locked in his throat. Mirajane writhed beneath him, breathless pleas falling onto his skin along with the bites and kisses she littered onto his neck and shoulders. Her hips moved restlessly as she tried to pull him deeper but he braced his weight on one hand, the other reaching to keep her still. Distantly, he wondered if she realized how close he was; that, if he didn't take it slowly, didn't move cautiously, this would be over a lot faster than either of them wanted.

His breath hissed from between clenched teeth as he tried to keep from surging eagerly forward, aching to be buried to the hilt inside her warmth. Finally, he was fully sheathed; joined to her as intimately as anyone could ever be and that exultant, possessive pride swept through his veins again. Fighting for control, trying to keep from collapsing into her and mindlessly following the pleasure of her inner walls constantly moving around him, he slowly withdrew.

Gradually, the heat and the pressure grew; the slow invasion of her body melding into something smoother as Freed found a rhythm that worked for them both. Pushing forward and hooking up, faster and faster. The sound of skin meeting skin and wet mouths and moans, ringing through the room spurred him on to thrust harder and deeper every time he withdrew and pressed back in. It was mindless, pure emotion racing to engulf them both in an endless tide though they fought with all their might for it to never end.

But in the end, the screaming demands of his body won out; Mirajane was trembling like a leaf in the wind, clinging so tightly to him, and her eyes so hazed over by pleasure, he doubted she even knew what was going on around her. Carefully shifting so as not to lose the angle he'd found – the one that made her arch violently, sobbing his name as her body tightened exquisitely around him, drawing an answering groan from his throat – he reached between them. His hips never stopped moving, pushing her towards the peak, and his fingers unerringly found the little bundle of nerves that would send her over the edge. Gritting his teeth against her increasing tightness, desperately begging his body to hold out for just a few more minutes, he swirled the pad of his finger over the swollen nub in tight circles.

She cried out, her nails raking down his arms and her body contracted around his hard length, pulling him even deeper into her wet heat. He moaned softly, under his breath, and sped up; unable to do anything but follow the lead of her convulsing frame and hope that she was close enough to the edge to follow him over.

It was too much, too good, and he opened his mouth to warn her but her entire body tensed and she impossibly grew wetter and warmer, her inner muscles stroking him strongly and it was all he could take. His hips slammed forward as he buried himself as deeply as he could go, grinding against her and spent himself into her with a few jerky, irregular thrusts; his groan of pained bliss mingling with Mirajane's as she followed him out onto the plateau of white-hot pleasure.

* * *

The moon was high when he woke, the fire dying down though their entangled bodies spread before it in exhaustion still maintained enough heat so that they weren't cold. Carefully, he pushed the strands of silver hair away from her face and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before lifting her as smoothly as he could, hoping he wouldn't wake her. Nonetheless, sleepy blue eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him, pressing her cheek against his collarbone as she cuddled closer.

The bedclothes were cold, he could feel their icy touch as he drew them back and deposited her into the bed; Mirajane moaned in protest and quickly rolled into a ball against him when he got in beside her. Naked skin pressed together tightly and quickly rebuilt heat until she comfortably relaxed against him, her head resting on his chest. Sleep seemed far away as he stared at her smile in the moonlight.

"I love you."

The whispered, sleepy words were nearly inaudible but the rush of wondering shock that ran through him confirmed that he had heard her soft admission. He pressed his lips against the top of her head in answer, because her even breathing told him that she was already asleep again.

_I love you too, Mirajane._

No, she hadn't been at all as he'd expected – as he'd thought she should be. Every day she still surprised him with thoughts or ideas that he never would have guessed she entertained. He'd been completely wrong about her – she hadn't given up, merely redirected her energies towards things she felt was more worthy of her time. And he couldn't help but be silently thankful, as turned onto his side and pulled her into his arms, that she counted him one of those things.

* * *

_**a/n: Finally done! The muse literally compelled me to write this and I'm so relieved that it's done though what started as an oneshot became one long … thing. Anyway … please review?**_


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